


Don't Touch His Phone

by HandsomeManExpress (DangerousCommieSubversive)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/HandsomeManExpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrian does the unthinkable during a house show. He <em>touches Tyler's phone.</em> And now Tyler is sulking, and <em>Sami</em> shows up, and everything gets sort of complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch His Phone

Tyler is pouting. It's almost _audible._

Adrian raises an eyebrow at him from across the locker room. “What's got your knickers in a twist?”

“You  _touched_ my  _phone._ ”

“I what?” Adrian blinks. “I suppose I did, didn't I.”

“You  _took_ my  _phone_ , and you took up  _valuable_ space on it taking pictures of  _yourself,_ and that obnoxious  _referee,_ and those,  _ugh,_ dirty  _children..._ ”

“'ow do you know they were dirty?”

Tyler just  _looks_ at him. “They're  _children._ ”

Adrian edges over to him. “Come on, gorgeous, lighten up a bit, it's only a house show. They weren't even  _recording—_ ”

“Which only makes it  _worse._ ” Tyler swats his hand away. “I'm not comfortable being asked to perform off  _camera._ ”

“Aw, please—”

An arm wraps around Tyler's stomach, and a bearded chin lands on his shoulder. Tyler goes stiff as a board, eyes wide, looking  _desperately_ offended, and Sami says, “Actually, I have to say,  _I'm_ on Tyler's side here. You've gotten nasty lately.”

“ _Excuse_ me.” Tyler twists around and gives Sami a furious look. “ _Why_ are you touching me?”

“Why are you in  _Boston?_ ” Adrian's gaping. “ _You_ didn't have a match tonight.”

Sami shrugs against Tyler's back. “Glass Animals were playing the Paradise. So I thought I'd drop in and say hi.”

Tyler disentangles himself with a little miffed noise and goes back to getting dressed.

“Whaddayou mean, I've gotten nasty?”

Sami raises an eyebrow. “Did you yank the ref out of the ring tonight too?”

Adrian snorts. “It's not  _personal._ ”

“No, of  _course_ not.” Sami rolls his eyes, then leans in close to Tyler's ear. “You want something to eat? I know a guy, he can get us in somewhere  _exclusive._ ”

Tyler looks irritated, reaching up to bat Sami away, but then he glances at Adrian and his eyes gleam. “Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

 

–

 

Tyler sulks all the way through the meal, picking at his artfully arranged plate of weird haute cuisine while he flips through the photos Adrian took. Occasionally, when the light's just right, he switches modes and takes a snapshot of his own pouting face before returning, inevitably, to a blurry picture of Adrian grinning winningly and waving at the camera. Sami, meanwhile, drinks a beer and chats with the restaurant doorman, someone he met years ago on the indie circuit. He looks both comfortable and  _incredibly_ out of place—flat cap, band tee, and all.

After they've paid—Tyler hands his black AmEx to the waiter with a bored sigh—Sami drags him out of the restaurant. “Come on.”

“What are you even  _doing?_ ”

“Here.” A shadowed doorway a few storefronts down. “Guess who's watching us.”

Tyler huffs. “Everyone,  _obviously._ _I'm_ here.”

“Adrian's over there across the street.” Sami reaches up to cup Tyler's cheek, which  _looks_ affectionate and is  _surprisingly_ good at preventing him from turning his head. “You should kiss me.”

“Why? I don't even  _like_ you. You didn't even pay for  _dinner._ ”

“Imagine how much it'll piss  _him_ off, then.”

“Good point.” Tyler leans forward.

One of Sami's hands slides into the back pocket of Tyler's jeans (True Religion Rocco slims with python print) while they're kissing. The other creeps up the back of his shirt (Rag and Bone Naval shirt in a deep, rich blue) to settle on the small of his back. A knee nudges Tyler's legs apart, and Sami presses him back against the wall.

Tyler grabs the collar of Sami's t-shirt. “That hat is  _terrible_ and I'm going to burn it,” he murmurs.

“Your ponytail is stupid,” Sami whispers back.

“You did  _not_ just insult  _my_ hair.”

“Don't talk shit about my hat.”

“I'm going to give you a makeover with my boots.”

Sami laughs like an adoring boyfriend whose date just made a terrible joke. “You're going to  _what?_ ”

“I'm going to kick you in the face  _so_ hard that you'll go all the way through to the other side and start  looking like you should actually be allowed out in public. ” Tyler kisses him again, making a faint irritated noise against his lips. Then his eyes flick over to the side “So what do you expect me to  _do_ when Adrian gets over here?”

“ Well,” Sami says softly into Tyler's mouth, “I do have a nice hotel room.”

And a few minutes later they hear running feet and Adrian comes to a stumbling stop next to their doorway.

Tyler arches an eyebrow at him, leaning lazily back against the wall with Sami's arms around his waist. “Yes?”

“Look, I don't know what you two think you're playing at, but I'm sorry I touched your phone.”

“Ok.” Tyler takes a selfie over Sami's shoulder while Sami mouths at his neck. “Apology accepted.”

Adrian reaches for them.

“Don't do that— _mm._ I only said I accepted your apology, I haven't said anything else yet.”

“Aw, come on, Tyler, Sami. I'm sorry I've been an arse.” Adrian looks up at them, pitiful in the shadow at the edge of the streetlight's glow. “Please.”

 

–

 

They actually manage to get back to Sami's hotel room in near-total silence, apart from the offhand sniping that always comes of being in Tyler's company. Sami hums to himself, pleased, Tyler remains aloof, and Adrian trails behind them with a hangdog look on his face.

Through the hotel room door, and Sami latches it. And Adrian just drops to his knees and presses his face to Tyler's stomach and murmurs, “Gorgeous,” against his abs.

Tyler takes a picture of himself and says, “Don't touch my phone.”

“I'm sorry I touched your phone.”

“I should  _hope._ ”

Sami pushes Tyler back against the wall and grins. “I'm definitely feeling good about coming to bother you two tonight.” He starts to undo Tyler's jeans with one hand. “Definitely a good decision.”

“I would have been just fine without  _either_ of you ar— _ahh._ ” The back of Tyler's head hits the wall, probably because Sami's gotten his fly open, and now Adrian's mouth is hot and wet around his cock.

“So what do we do with him, Tyler?” Sami works the fingers of one hand through Adrian's hair. “He  _did_ apologize.”

“Why are you  _asking_ me this? I can't think  _now._ ” Tyler's eyes aren't even open; he's breathing shallowly. He grabs blindly, one hand landing on Adrian's where Adrian is gripping his waistband, the other twisting in the front of Sami's shirt. “I. Uh.”

“ Or I could not ask you to talk.”

The three of them stay like that for few minutes—Adrian on his knees, Tyler against the wall, and Sami whispering in both their ears like some kind of cheery ginger Mephistopheles—until it looks dangerously like the evening's going to be over early, at which point Sami tugs on Adrian's hair and says, “You're gonna get rug burn on your knees if you don't stand up.”

Adrian stands with a wince.  “Oi, I was enjoying myself.”

Tyler just lets out a long, slow breath and stands up from where he's been leaning against the wall.

Adrian grabs Sami, pulls him down so that they're on eye level, and says, “This was your whole plan, wasn't it. You didn't go to any bloody concert.”

“No, I really did, it was great.” Sami grins and tugs off his shirt. “I mean, it wasn't the  _main_ reason I came up here, but I  _did_ go to the show. You should get naked.”

Adrian starts undoing buttons and says, irritably, “ _Why_ do I listen to you, mate?”

“Because you love me and my enthusiasm is infectious.”

“And how'd you drag Tyler into it?”

Tyler looks up at the mention of his name. “Hm?” He's peeling himself out of his shirt with the languid ease of someone for whom getting into (and out of) expensive clothes is a living,  and he glows in the  light of the lamps.

They both just sort of stare at him, momentarily dumbstruck.

He preens.

“You have to admit,” Sami says, sounding a little breathless, “ he may hate  both of us , but he  _is_ nice to look at.”  His arms are wrapped around Adrian from behind, his hands busily undoing Adrian's belt.

Tyler preens more.

Adrian throws a shoe at him.

“ If you're going to be like  _that_ then I'm going to leave.”

“ No, no, please don't.”

“ Don't worry, he's not going to  _actually_ leave.”

Adrian twists around to look at Sami. “Hardly! He's done it to me before! He's  _made_ of spite! Just wander off to go take pictures of himself and leave me on my—”

Sami kisses him and pulls his pants down at the same time, which is sufficiently distracting that he stops talking. Sami's beard is rough against his skin, and he still seems  _worryingly_ pleased about how everything's gone.

He's moved down from Adrian's mouth, to his throat, to one of his nipples, and Adrian is making vague noises and clawing at his back, when Tyler clears his throat behind them.

And  the  bed just sort of...happens.

First they all land on top of the bedspread with Adrian on the bottom of the pile, and then they roll and there's a moment where it's just Tyler and Sami wrapped around each other in a way that looks  _amazingly_ obscene while Adrian stares breathless from where he's trapped by their weight on his legs.  _Then_ Sami reaches for Adrian, kisses him, pulls Tyler close and presses  _his_ mouth to Adrian's.

They rearrange. Somewhere in the middle of rearranging Sami produces a bottle of lube from  _somewhere,_ possibly the bedside table.  Or the magical space where he stores all his damn band t-shirts.

Tyler is moaning with Adrian's fingers in his ass, and continues to make noises—intermittently debauched and demanding, and sometimes both—until Adrian shuts him up with a kiss and slides in. Sami, who's bee watching them from the end of the bed, waits a moment for Adrian to get settled and then kisses the back of his neck and now  _he's_ the one setting the pace, his thrusts the ones pushing Adrian forward into Tyler.

So: Tyler at the head of the bed with his knees pressed to his shoulders, Sami at the foot with a grin on his face and his arms around Adrian's waist, and Adrian between them, fucking and  _being_ fucked and looking like he couldn't possibly be more pleased.

In fact the only one of them who  _doesn't_ look pleased is Tyler, who looks irritated, but it's the good, resting-bitchface irritated, not the I'll-kick-you-in-the-ear kind.

“I don't,  _ah,_ even know  _why_ I bother trying to ignore you two anymore.” Tyler somehow manages in eyeroll. “This  _always_ happens.”

“Gorgeous.”

_“What?”_

Adrian wraps a hand around Tyler's cock. “Shut up.”

“ _Ohh_ you shut up.”

“ _Both_ of you shut up, you're ruining the moment.”

“We're not  _having_ a—”

Sami thrusts hard and sends Adrian rolling forward into Tyler, and Tyler cuts off mid-sentence with his eyelids fluttering and comes all over Adrian's stomach. Briefly  _actually_ silenced, he wraps his arms and legs around Adrian, clinging to the other man as he's fucked, Adrian's face buried in the side of his neck.

Sami is the neck to come, grinning into Adrian's hair and then pulling Adrian's head back for a kiss.

And...Adrian is last.

He's panting and breathless, Tyler is still clinging to him, Sami pressing kisses down his spine, and when he shudders over the edge he's still between them.

They don't even both to clean up, as unwise as that might be. They just move around a bit, mainly to allow access to the blankets, with Sami pulls up over them with a yawn.

Adrian settles himself and winces. “Bit too much of a workut after a match, really.”

“Shut up, you won.” Tyler reaches for—his phone, lazily taking a selfie as he finger-combs his hair.

“Aw, don't take another—”

“Don't touch his phone,” Sami mutters sleepily. “Or we'll never here the end of it.”

 

–

 

Sami wakes up early in the morning, with light leaking in around the edges of the curtains. He yawns, scowls, and prepares to go back to sleep, but sees something that changes his mind for at least a moment.

It's the work of seconds to extract Tyler's phone from his grip—Tyler rolls over in his sleep, murmuring, “Don't let the monkeys touch my hair.”

Sami takes a selfie, grinning, barely awake. Then he takes another shot of all three of them and sets it as Tyler's phone background.

“Wazza,” Adrian says, still asleep, his mouth full of Tyler's hair.

Sami tucks the phone back into Tyler's hand, drapes himself over Adrian, and goes back to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The house show they reference is one I was actually at! WWE Live in Boston on September 14. It was a good time.


End file.
